


love, what an act of faith

by wordsxstars



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, BAMF Steve Rogers, BAMF Tony Stark, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Italian Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Just read the tags please, M/M, Mild Language, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, There's a lot of angst but there's also fluff!!!, Tiberius Stone is an asshole, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsxstars/pseuds/wordsxstars
Summary: Tony moves towards him as the guard lets him go, and the moment passes.When Tony reaches him, Steve can see more clearly the flickering anger that the genius can't hide up close. It's less than before, but it’s there. It’s definitely there. And yet, for anyone who doesn’t know him… harmless. Tony looks completely harmless, dressed in Steve’s clothes like this. Nothing more than a pretty face to entertain the Captain for the trip.__lies, truth, hope, fear, love, hate. It all comes together into a mixed up, incomprehensible messin the end, we all end up here.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so finally, here is the fic that I've been writing for five months and procrastinating for six. It's the longest project I've ever made a start on so bear with me when the updates are slow 
> 
> please read the tags, they are there for a reason. the last thing I want to do is accidentally trigger someone. i won't ever write anything graphic, the worst that will happen is implication. i'll also be putting warnings at the top of every chapter where needed, just make sure you read them. 
> 
> also! this fic is lightly inspired by a buckytony one shot titled "the Superman fffect"  
> (uhh i kind of took that idea and butchered the smut with angst im truly sorry)

Lunch with Obadiah Stane has gone from once a year, to twice a year, to almost every month. 

Tony won’t pretend it doesn’t make him nervous, but he’s always been good at hiding things like this. 

So he turns up to all of the lunches, he smiles every time, talks about his teaching job at MIT. He definitely _doesn’t_ talk about his job at SHIELD, or the fact that he secretly runs a billion dollar company under a name that he hasn’t used for his entire life. 

It’s a need to know basis, his friendship with Obie. He wants to keep it like that. After everything that’s happened… he wants to keep it like that. 

He’s not even sure _friendship_ is the right word to use. He’d backed out of Obadiah’s company five years ago, and hadn’t had any desire to go back into weapons manufacturing. That hasn't stopped Obadiah from wanting him to keep in touch. Even after his mother's death, Obie had wanted to keep catching up with him, despite Maria being the person to really connect them in the first place. Or at least she had been, until Obie had hired him straight out of college. 

Tony doesn’t trust Obadiah, not really. his eyes are too cold, too calculating. But the man is also the only person even closely resembling a parental figure in his life now, and it's hard to turn his back on that. Plus, Obie hasn’t done anything wrong that Tony could prove even if he wanted to. It's just… a feeling. 

So lunch. 

Obadiah is late, and honestly Tony isn’t surprised. It’s the only thing he can rely on about the whole situation that he’s finding himself in increasingly often.

Ten minutes later, a waitress walks up to their table. He doesn’t turn to see who’s with her, but from the way she’s stumbling over her words, it doesn’t take a lot to guess. 

Obadiah smiles at him as he takes a seat in the chair opposite, and Tony forces one back. 

“Hi Obie. Traffic?”

“Business calls.” The other man says, and there’s a faintly amused smile on his face. 

“Oh?” Tony says, and he only half cares. He left that world for a reason, the world of weapons and destruction. 

“Tony.” Obie chides, and he feels a flash of anger at the mocking tone. He squashes it fast, absolutely refusing to let Obadiah have the satisfaction of seeing it on his face. “You know I can’t tell you any of this.”

Tony laughs, calling the waitress over to order drinks. It’s not amusing. Frankly, he doesn’t give a _shit._ But the patronising edge to Obadiah’s voice makes him want to break something.

“I know.” He says with a humourless smile. “Just trying to make conversation.”

Obie laughs too, and it’s a cold thing. 

“Order me a drink?”

Tony has always wondered how his questions somehow manage to sound like orders every time. 

“Sure.” Tony says, flashing a smirk at the waitress. She blushes, and he feels a flash of nausea. It’s harder around Obadiah, to remember why he stepped back from that life and everything that came with it. It’s not him, it never has been, despite the rumours and stories that had circulated around him like vultures for years.

A minute later their drinks arrive, and Obadiah clinks the glasses together. Tony takes a drink, and it burns a little. 

“So,” Obie says when Tony’s halfway done with his drink. He’s resisting the urge to tap his fingers on the table, refusing to give into the nervous habit. “How have you been Tony?”

Tony doesn't allow more than a second of silence before he answers. If he controls the conversation, maybe he can avoid the other questions. 

“I've been good.” He says with a half smile, dragging his finger around the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “Teaching’s going well. You’d be surprised at how many of these kids are actually a lot smarter than they look.”

Obie flashes a grin again, and it’s a tiny bit warmer this time. “Any other super genius ones?”

Tony huffs out a laugh, letting his mind linger on one name before deciding against it. “Unfortunately no. But they’re intelligent kids. They’ll do well in life.” 

Their food comes soon after, and Tony really wants to drop the teaching thing before- 

“You know, teaching doesn’t really fulfill your whole… skill set, does it?”

_Too late._

Tony smiles again, but there’s no humour in it. “I’m aware. But it’s what I enjoy doing.”

That, and the whole working for a secret government agency deal, which he doesn’t intend to mention any time soon. 

There’s a shrug from Obadiah, and Tony can feel a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. 

“I only wish you’d consider my offer Tony. You were a real asset to the company. I know I made a mistake-“

“That _mistake,_ ” Tony says quietly, “cost people their lives. It wasn’t what I wanted to be a part of. It wasn’t your fault, but you understand why I can’t come back.”

There’s something that flashes in Obadiah's eyes at that, but for the life of him Tony can’t work out what. He counts four seconds of silence in the pounding of his heart and then- 

Obie shrugs. “Okay. I just had to ask. It was nice having you working with me. Maybe one day you can reconsider.”

Tony gives him a bland smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

They start to eat, and he is so glad for the distraction, for something to occupy his hands while he thinks. 

He wonders if he ever would go back to work for Obadiah. He suspects not, even though the temptation is there, small as it is. But however you look at it, the facts remain the same. Someone had gone under the table and dealt to terrorists, had dealt _Tony’s_ weapons to terrorists. And without the joy of knowing who… there had been no way he could’ve risked continuing to make them. So he’d left, walked away, not looked back. But somehow… _somehow_ Obadiah couldn't just let it go.

Tony’s phone rings, interrupting his thoughts. He picks it up with a frown, eyes flickering over the _unknown number_ written across the screen. 

“Hello?”

A woman’s voice filters through the phone, and it’s familiar enough that he has to bite down on the urge to smile. 

_“Act natural or I’ll kill you.”_

“What are you-”

A click, and the other person hangs up. When he puts his phone away, Obadiah's eyebrows are raised. Tony shakes his head with a wave of dismissal. 

“Wrong number, don’t worry. What were you-”

He breaks off as Natasha Romanoff walks into the restaurant. 

_Walks_ would be a little generous. _rushes_ would be more accurate. He has less than two seconds to rearrange his entire face into the right amount of recognition before she's next to them.

He sees the look in her eyes as she recognises Obadiah, but it’s quickly covered by the smile she gives him. 

“Oh wow, Mr Stane, it’s an honour to meet you! Tony said he knew you but no one _really believed_ him.”

He resists the urge to kick her, because he’s never heard Natasha Romanoff _gushing_ before, didn’t even know it was something she was _capable_ of, whether she’s playing a role or not. 

Obie smirks, and Tony gives him a look. 

“It’s lovely to meet you too, miss?”

“Rushman.” Natasha says with a smile. “Natalie Rushman. I’m one of Tony’s colleagues.” 

“It’s not often I get to meet anyone Tony works with.” Obadiah says with a laugh. “So it’s my pleasure.”

“Natalie.” He steps in before this drags out for longer than necessary. “No offence but… What are you doing here?”

She blinks, before looking back at him, seemingly remembering something. “Oh! Sorry, yes. We have an emergency.”

As he looks at her again, he takes in the details. She’s dressed in a tailored suit, coat over one arm and hair windswept. It’s so at odds with the leather jackets and combat boots Tony is used to that he has to take a second. He sees the flash of annoyance in her eyes as he hesitates and decides to start talking. 

“This is my lunch break.” He says with a frown. “They can’t have burnt down the campus in twenty minutes.”

“No, but we need you back. There’s a student who has accidentally set something on fire in your lab.” She says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s the _opposite_ of what Natasha would do, Tony knows as much from hours spent working with her at SHIELD. But of course, this is not Natasha Romanoff at all. 

And that… that sentence is a code. 

_Shit._

He swears under his breath, turning to Obie with a look of apology in his eyes. “I’ll pay for this, just text me the details. I’m so sorry, I really have to go and help.”

Obadiah waves a hand. “Go, don't worry about it. I’ll see you soon I suspect.” There’s a look of faint amusement on his face, like he knows something Tony doesn’t. He ignores the faint flash of nausea that accompanies this thought, standing up and grabbing his jacket. 

“Let’s go.” She says quietly, steering him towards the door with a final, brilliant smile directed to Obadiah. Tony doesn’t look back as she half pulls him out of the restaurant, dragging him down the street until they reach a side alley. Then he pulls out of her grip fast. She doesn't comment on the speed of the movement, and he's grateful for that at least.

“What the _fuck_ Romanoff?” He whisper shouts, unwilling to attract too much attention. “Why the hell couldn't you have just _called_ me?”

She gives him a look that has his mouth snapping closed instantly, because shouting at Natasha hasn’t historically been good for anyone's health. He doubts even _Fury_ would go that far.

“Be careful.” She says, voice low. “I’m not risking a cover just so you can bitch at me. Fury wanted you in, that’s not my decision to make. It had to be realistic and he had to buy it, so stop whining and go.”

“Why does Fury want me there?” He says, eyes narrowing. “Because last I checked I'm just the mechanic.”

A humourless smile twists Natasha’s lips. “Maybe he needs to pick your alter ego’s brain for something.”

He feels a sudden sharp urge to get defensive, accompanied with a flash of panic that he suspects won’t ever get old. It’s not like she had shouted his name in times square but… he’s nervous, too nervous about it. It’s a weakness, to have a secret like this, he’s well aware of that. 

"I don’t have an _alter ego_.” Tony says quietly, squashing the fear. He knows that Fury knows, that she knows. But no one else does, and Tony would like to keep it that way

She just shrugs, tone faintly mocking as she speaks again. “You’re a genius _Mr Carbonell_ , whether you like it or not, however many times you hide behind different masks and names and identities. You retain the same level of IQ, even if you’re a little too good at pretending otherwise.”

He holds her gaze for a long time, and she holds it right back, unflinchingly. Seconds pass, and then Tony shakes his head, breaking eye contact and glancing away. “Fine, whatever. I’m not having this conversation with you in the middle of an alleyway. I’m guessing you’re not offering me a ride back to SHIELD?”

Natasha gives him a lazy smile, pulling out the keys to her bike. “Nope. You’ve got time, so don’t stress too much. Be careful.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m not the one riding a motorcycle through Manhattan Tasha.”

Her gaze softens slightly, in a way that Tony knows most people will never get to see. 

“I know. But…” A shrug. “Humour me. Take care of yourself Tony, okay?”

Something tells him that she’s not just talking about the journey back to SHIELD headquarters, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. Natasha has always been cryptic, but this? This is extreme, even for her. 

“Yeah.” He says, deciding not to push it, not now. “Sure, you know I always do.”

She flashes a grin at him, concern leaving her face like smoke in the wind. “See you in a minute.”

And then she’s gone, vanishing into the crowded streets of the city.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait, but i hope you all enjoy 😌

Tony shoves open the door of his lab an hour later, sending it slamming into the wall. Sitting at one of the work benches, head bent over a project, sixteen year old Peter Parker nearly jumps out of his skin. There’s a loud crash as his chair tips, and then a torrent of language that makes Tony proud. 

_“God._ Can’t you knock or something?”

Tony rolls his eyes, throwing himself down onto one of the couches. Lunch with Obadiah is always draining, beyond draining, and the meeting with Fury doesn’t start for another twenty minutes. He has time to sleep, or at least try to. 

“Is it finished?”

He can _sense_ Peter rolling his eyes, even if the kid is way too star struck to actually do it in Tony’s view. But then he deflates as Tony sits up, glancing over his work.

“Still no. There’s something missing, not sure what. I keep messing it up.”

Tony’s expression softens slightly, looking back to the teenager in front of him. 

“Not many sixteen year olds can even attempt to develop a tracking technology this advanced. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself about it kid.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Tony laughs, but there’s no humour in it. The teen is incredibly intelligent, he’s not surprised he’s managed to figure Tony out, despite only knowing him properly for a couple of weeks. 

He had met Peter at the first class he’d ever taught at MIT. Tony had seen so much of himself reflected in Peter in that first hour that he hadn’t even hesitated. The first assignment he had set had been turned in a day early by the kid, and Tony… Tony had been genuinely impressed with it. A week later, Fury had agreed to let him have an intern working part time in his lab at SHIELD, and now here they are. 

Tony wonders if Peter is actually smarter than him. Probably. The thought of that makes Tony smile. The kid is a genius, he just doesn’t know it yet. 

“Is there a reason you’re back from lunch early?” Peter asks carefully, and Tony raises his eyebrows, amusement dancing in his gaze 

“You know my schedule now kid?”

Peter huffs, folding his arms and returning his attention to his project. “No. But I heard Fury telling the Captain you were out when he came looking for you. 

He’s not- he’s not really sure what to say to that, not sure how to react to the knowledge that SHIELD’s most skilled agent is _looking_ for him. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Peter agrees, going back to fiddling with the hair thin wires in front of him. “Oh.”

There’s a pause. “Did he want something?” Tony asks carefully, trying to keep his tone neutral, standing up with a stretch and wincing as something in his shoulder clicks. 

“Uh. I think he wanted you to look over some damage to his gear. I told him I could do it but...I don’t think he trusts me with it.”

“According to myth, he doesn’t trust anyone.” Tony mutters, heading over to where Peter is sitting. “Looks good.”

Peter side eyes him, and Tony can’t work out his expression. “Thanks. So why are you early? And don’t deflect the question.”

Tony hisses out a breath, knowing that the kid isn’t about to let it go. “Fine. Fury called me, he needs to debrief me about something. Well actually, Natasha called me, and then interrupted my lunch. Anyway, there’s a mission that apparently they need me for. And no, I can’t tell you anything, mostly because I don’t _know_ anything _._ But even if I did, I still wouldn’t tell you.”

“Figures.” Peter sighs, narrowing his eyes as he drops the wire. “Shouldn’t you be getting to that meeting?”

“Christ.” Tony groans, glaring at him. “One minute in the big leagues with some secret agents, and your hero worship for me just vanishes.” 

Peter grins at him, and it’s shit eating. “You’re a mechanic. The Captain is the most talented agent SHIELD has, an assassin, and the legends say he’s probably a demigod.”

Tony rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to laugh. How the mighty have fallen. There are moments when he regrets being anonymous when it came to creating Stark Industries, but then he remembers all the reasons behind the decision. 

_(Heavy is the head that wears the crown, isn’t that right?)_

He wonders what Peter would say if he finds out his mentor and teacher, Tony Carbonell, is actually Tony Stark. He would probably die, if his frequent monologues about how _awesome_ SI tech is are anything to go by. 

Maybe a conversation for another day. 

“Don’t believe everything you hear on wikipedia.” Tony says with a laugh, poking Peter gently in the arm. “Besides, the Captain isn’t a-”

“I’m not a what?”

Tony spins around fast, feeling too much like a kid just caught eating in class. The Captain is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame . His face is carefully neutral, but his blue eyes are practically _dancing_ with amusement. 

“Tony was just-”

Tony kicks Peter under the table, hard, and the teen shuts up, not before flashing another one of his shit eating grins. 

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “Tony?”

Tony nods, feeling a shiver of unease race down his spine. Everyone he interacts with knows him as Mr Carbonell. His mother’s maiden name had been an obvious choice for his entire life, especially once he’d decided to open Stark Industries. People knowing he’s Tony Stark can’t bring anything good. So Carbonell it is, and the myth and mystery surrounding Tony Stark and who he really is only grows. 

Aside from Peter, Nat and Obadiah, no one has called him Tony in a while. But, the Captain knowing his first name doesn’t mean he knows the truth about his last. 

Tony blinks, snapping himself out of his own thoughts

“I work on a need to know basis. Nothing personal Cap.”

There’s a flicker of a smile on the Captain’s usually impassive face, and it’s a secretive amusement, like he knows something Tony doesn’t. 

Suddenly feeling nervous, and far too out of his comfort zone for his liking, Tony clears his throat, stretching a little. “Peter said you needed something earlier?”

“Oh, yeah. Fury asked me if you could have a look at some of my gear for a mission I’ve got to leave for tomorrow. Trackers and that kind of thing.”

Tony nods, picking his sweatshirt off the back of the chair. He feels bad for whoever ends up going with the Captain on that one. His missions aren’t exactly _known_ for their low risk levels 

“For sure. Leave them here, Peter can start on them while I’m at a briefing. Don’t worry, he’s good at what he does. I’ll have it done for tonight.”

“Thank you.” The Captain says, and his voice has a note of… something in it. Tony hasn’t heard it before, can’t figure out what exactly it is. 

It doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter, is that he’s now late for this meeting. 

“Shit.” He mutters, yanking his sweatshirt over his head. “I have to go Cap, but come down about 7?”

He only sees the Captain nod once before Tony is out of the door, bolting up the stairs to the room number Nat had texted him about. 

Once he reaches the room, he only knocks once before pushing it open. 

“Hi-”

“You’re late.” Snaps Nick Fury, and Tony feels a flicker of annoyance before he shoves it away, pulling out a chair. 

“I know.” He forces his voice to remain neutral, calm. “I know, sorry. I was talking to the Captain about some of the tech he needs repairing.”

Fury opens his mouth again, and then Natasha shoves opens the door, face set in stone. It brightens as soon as she sees Tony. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here. Aren’t you usually late to these things?”

He flashes her a smile and a glare at the same time, and she just grins back, slipping into a seat next to him. Despite everything, Tony feels himself relax slightly. “Full of surprises. Though I’m not sure _why_ exactly I’m here.”

Fury smiles, and it’s really not a reassuring one. “I’m sending you on a mission. You’ll find the rest out in due course, we’re just waiting for the last person to start.”

Tony braces his hands on the table in front of him, palms flattening, trying to ignore the nerves jumping to life in his stomach. “So you’re saying that I was actually the _first_ one here.”

“Still late.” Fury smirks, and Tony leans back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He hears the door open and close again, but still doesn’t move to look. He resists the urge to put his feet on the table, because pissing Fury off right now is probably a bad idea. 

It would be satisfying though. 

“Sir, you called me in?”

His eyes snap open. 

The Captain is standing in the doorway. 

“Jesus.” He mutters under his breath. “Okay Fury, start talking. What the hell is going on here?”

Another smile, and Tony is beginning to wonder if Nick Fury actually has a soul. He’s not a betting man, but he would put money on him being a robot. Or maybe an alien. 

“Have any of you ever heard of an organisation named Hydra?”

The Captain’s palm comes down, slamming into the table in front of them. Tony jumps a little, Natasha doesn’t flinch.

“No. They’re _gone_ Fury. I wiped them out five years ago.”

There’s silence for a second, and Tony knows that everyone in the room is thinking the same thing. 

Five years ago, the Captain and Bucky Barnes had gone on the final mission to dismantle the terrorist organisation known as Hydra. Hydra fell, only the Captain returned. Tony had been under the impression that it was a forbidden subject to mention. Judging by the look on Fury’s face, the Captain isn’t one to bring it up much. 

Tony is just about managing to keep up, so he’s not surprised when his mind starts to drift a little. Five years ago seems like forever, and yet nothing at all. 

_The clink of glasses, a quiet smile. His head is reeling with the knowledge that somewhere, people are dying because of his weapons. Terrorists, someone inside the company selling to them, and there’s so much death-_

“Well intel suggests otherwise.” Fury snaps, and Tony, jolting back to the present, wonders if the director has always been this bad at keeping his annoyance in check. Unlike Tony, who learnt how to keep everything off his face more than fifteen years ago. Steve sucks in a breath, and Tony watches him relax back into the seat. 

“Please continue.”

Nat shoots Tony a questioning look, as if she thinks he knows anything about this entire situation. He just shrugs in return, bringing his attention back to Fury who’s talking again. 

“So Hydra. They came onto our radar again relatively recently. Apparently those assholes don’t know when to give up. We’ve been putting spies in there for the last three months, every one of them has come back dead. I need people in there who won’t come back dead, who can go in and get the intel that is so essential. Their leader is currently anonymous, we need a name. Sources say they’re building up to something big, and we can’t stop it without more information.”

Silence. 

Tony puts his feet on the table, boots making a dull thud as they connect. He sees the flash of annoyance in Fury’s eyes, and smiles a little, tight knot of anxiety in his stomach relaxing slightly. Fuck keeping on this guys good side. 

“So you’re sending us on a suicide mission.” Tony says flatly, smile gone. 

He sees the Captain shoot him a look, but ignores it. 

“This isn’t a suicide mission.” Fury says, steepling his fingers. “Here’s what it is. The Captain infiltrates the Hydra organisation base we’ve found. He's the best, the survival rate goes up. You go along as the brains of the mission. We need to be able to decrypt all the intel the Captain collects on the scene, because we need the information to be correct and straight from the source. If we don’t have to transfer it to be decrypted, survival rates go up. Fewer opportunities for someone to betray us. We don’t know what you’re going into, so I need the best we’ve got for this, which unfortunately means you as well Tony.”

He shakes his head. “I’m a mechanic Fury, I don’t do tech decryption.”

It’s a lie, and Fury knows it, Tony knows it, and Nat knows it. Tony Carbonell doesn’t do tech, not at this level. Tony Stark… Tony Stark has made billions from it. 

But a secret identity is a secret for a reason. 

“Bullshit.” Says Fury, a quiet smile on his face. The smug bastard knows. He knows he’s won. “Shall we do some introductions? I feel like everyone should be on the same page here before we continue.”

Tony tenses, a spike of fear going through him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Captain frown slightly, eyes flicking between Tony and the director in front of them. If Tony says no, he suspects Fury will tell the Captain anyway. If he says yes, he’s agreeing to the mission. But judging by the look on Fury’s face, no isn’t really a word the man is used to hearing. 

Tony closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax. It’s a name, just a name. The fact that Fury’s blackmailing him into revealing it doesn’t matter. The fact that the only people on the planet who know who he really is are Fury and Nat doesn’t matter. Even Obadiah doesn’t know. 

_It’s just a name._

Tony nods slowly, and he can’t see Fury’s face but he would bet his life that he’s smiling. 

“Captain,” says Fury, “why don’t you start us off? No information disclosed in this room leaves it.”

Tony opens his eyes, turning to face the Captain, forcing his expression into neutrality. 

The Captain is still looking between the two of them, but then he blinks, face relaxing slightly. 

“I’m Steve.” He says with a half smile, holding out his hand to shake. “Steve Rogers.”

Tony manages a smile despite the nausea rolling in his stomach. He just needs to _calm down._

Fury turns to him, inclining his head in a gesture that clearly says _go on then._

He shakes Steve’s ( _Steve)_ hand with a nod, refusing to look at Fury. “Tony Stark.”

He feels the moment it clicks in Steve’s head, sees the emotions cross his face at the speed of light. Annoyance, confusion, shock, and a tiny bit of fear. Steve’s grip tightens, just a little. 

Tony counts the seconds of silence. He gets to 6 and a half before Steve releases his hand. 

“You’re Tony Stark.”

Tony resists the urge to swallow and instead nods, refusing to pull away. “Yes.”

“No one else knows.”

It’s not a question, Tony answers it anyway. 

“No.”

Steve just looks at him for a long long moment, and Tony tells himself not to focus on how blue his eyes are. 

(He fails. He’s been failing at ignoring Steve’s eyes for three months now.)

“I thought you’d be older.” The Captain says eventually, a half smile crossing his lips. “You’re twenty five, right?”

Tony lifts his shoulders into a shrug. “Twenty three actually.”

Steve tilts his head to one side. “Twenty three, and you’re one of the most successful businessmen on earth?”

_Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t you dare fucking-_

Tony feels his cheeks heat slightly. “I guess so?”

Natasha clears her throat. “Are you two almost done?”

It’s Steve’s turn to blush now, and Tony feels a twinge of satisfaction as the Captain looks away. When he turns his attention back to Fury, the director is watching them with raised eyebrows, a humourless smile on his face.

“Now that we’re on the same page, all intel shared would be appreciated.” Tony doesn’t think that’s an optional request. “Stark, why don’t you start us off?”

He leans back in his chair and tries to sort through the mess of thoughts and memories. He’s thankful that none of it shows on his face, thankful that that is the one thing he _can_ do right. 

“I haven’t had a lot of interactions with Hydra,” he starts, voice carrying in the silence, “only indirectly. I used to work for Obadiah Stane under the name of Carbonell, and there was… an issue about five years ago. Someone on the inside had sold weapons to an international terrorist group.” He nods towards the file still sitting on the table. “Hydra. I didn’t stay long enough to watch the consequences of that pan out.”

Steve leans forward, and he’s close enough that Tony can smell the faint scent of coconut shampoo. He forces himself to focus as the Captain speaks. 

“Did you ever find out who was dealing under the table.”

Tony shakes his head, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Nope. Obie launched a full scale investigation into it, they found nothing. Whoever it was is either hiding it incredibly well, or long gone.” 

“Do you have any reason to believe it’s still happening?”

Tony turns his full attention on Steve, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I told you, I left. I have no way of knowing. It’s no longer any of my business anyway. Plus I thought you had wiped out Hydra completely until about two minutes ago.” 

Steve frowns slightly, and Tony can almost _feel_ what’s about to come out of his mouth, the judgement flickering in his eyes. 

“Anyway.” Natasha says quickly, shattering the tension before it can build anymore. “They're back, no point playing a blame game now. Focus is on how to stop them.”

Tony leans forward, pulling the file towards him and flipping it open. “You said you’re sending us into a base. How do we know it’ll actually be any use?”

Fury’s voice is still that blank calm. “We have it on good authority that the second in command is currently residing at that base. No names are in that file. Captain Rogers will be receiving a digital copy of the updated version later today.”

Tony nods slowly. “I want a copy of that file too.”

Natasha shoots him a look which very clearly says _don’t push him._ Tony ignores her as Fury raises his eyebrows. 

“Captain Rogers is the leading agent on this mission. We’re dealing with international terrorists. We know they’re dangerous. The less you know the better.”

Tony laughs, and it’s humourless. “Don’t bullshit me. I’m going and risking my life to decode information for you. I’ll know more than anyone here by the end of this. I want all the facts, don’t pretend to be protecting me here.”

“Tony.” Nat says quietly, warning low in her voice. He glances at her once, and there’s something in her gaze that makes him pause with a frown.

“What are you not saying?”

Fury waves a hand, cutting Natasha off as she opens her mouth. 

“Nothing to concern you Stark. I need an answer from you both about this mission, yes or no, and I need it now.”

“Yes.” Steve says quietly, without hesitation. “I know how they work, it’s a good idea to send me.”

Tony glances between them, hesitation and dread curling in his stomach. If he says yes, that’s it. He’ll be going on a mission into the middle of a group of people that are known for being able to kill a man in over 30 ways. 

And yet…

_He sees it in the news before Obadiah reaches him. A blonde woman is talking, the eyeliner on the left side of her face has smudged a little. And then there’s nothing in his head but roaring noise as the figures are repeated over and over. Thousands dead, children buried, the Stane Industries logo lighting homes in the hands of terrorists. He had designed those weapons and now-_

“I’ll do it.” He says, meeting Fury’s eyes with a steady gaze. “But I want transparency. Full transparency.”

“You have to be able to compromise Stark.” Fury grits out, and Tony feels a flicker of annoyance. 

“I am compromising, this is me compromising. I’ll go, but only if you give me the information I want. Simple.”

There are four seconds of silence, Tony can feel each one in the pounding of his heart.

“Fine.” Fury says after the pause, and there’s no warmth in his voice. “You will receive a copy of it later tonight. I’ll brief you both now, the rest of the information you can get from the files.”

“Thank you.” He says, a tiny bite to the words as he leans back in his seat. 

Natasha pulls the paper out of his hand and starts to flip through it as information comes to life on the screen before them. Seconds later, Fury starts to talk. 

Tony ignores the fact that he can feel the Captain’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

_________

When Tony gets down to the lab, it’s starting to get dark and Peter is still there, bent over the thin wires spread across the table. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting home, kid?” Tony says quietly. He can hear the exhaustion in his own voice, and normally he would be working against letting anyone hear it, but right now he doesn’t care. 

“I’m nearly done.” The teen says, twisting two ends together. “My aunt won’t worry, she knows I like to stay late. Did that meeting go well?”

“Define well.” Tony mutters, sitting down with a sigh. “It was fine. But i’ll be gone for a few weeks starting tomorrow. There’s a mission.”

“With the Captain?”

“Yep.”

“Shit, aren’t they supposedly death-” Tony shoots him a look and the teenager backpedals with a wince. “I mean, wow! That will be... fun?”

He bites back a laugh, shaking his head. “It will be fine. Pretty routine or so I’m told. I won’t be interacting with anyone, just the tech.”

“Right. I guess I’m staying here?”

“You’re sixteen years old. _Yes_ you're staying here.” He doesn’t give Peter a chance to respond, instead glancing over his shoulder again. 

“You should really go home kid. You can come and finish this tomorrow morning”

“I told you,” he says, “It's nearly perfect. I’ll stop soon, promise. 

“Peter.” 

“Stop hovering.” Peter says with a laugh. “I’m fine, I’ll be done in ten minutes

“I don’t _hover_.” Tony says, lips tugging into a smile. “I observe.”

“Hover.”

“Didn’t you say you had something to finish?” Tony’s laughing now, fond exasperation mixing with the exhaustion. “Remind me why I let you be my intern?”

“You know you love me really-”

“Am I interrupting something?” 

The newest voice is layered with a quiet, subtle sort of amusement. Tony knows who it is before he even turns, but looks anyway. 

Steve’s dressed differently this time, more normal clothing taking precedence over the SHIELD uniform. 

Tony has just opened his mouth to say, undoubtedly, something stupid, when Peter cuts in, standing up with a smile. 

“Nope. I was just finishing off work, but I can take it home! Tony was hovering, it’s probably a good idea that I leave now.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, and Peter catches his eye with a _look_. Teenagers. Why did he think working with teenagers would be a good idea. 

“Okay go. Text me when you’re home and I'll let you know what the plan is over the next few weeks

“Yes _mom.”_

“Aren’t you supposed to be leaving?”

“Helicopter parent.” Peter whispers loudly as he leaves, and Tony decides against aiming a rude gesture at the closing door.

After it shuts, he turns back to Steve with an amused smile of apology. 

“Sorry. He was meant to leave an hour ago.”

Steve laughs, and it makes Tony feel stupidly warm which is dumb so of course he completely ignores it. 

“Don’t worry, he seems like a good kid.”

Tony smiles a little, and it’s more relaxed now as he feels some of the tension in his chest easing. 

“Yeah, he’s a genius honestly. I took him on as a temporary intern, he reminds me of myself in college.” 

He shrugs, going back to the workbench and starting to clear a couple of things away. It’s another minute before he realises his guest hasn’t left, and he’s been ignoring him for too long for it to be polite. 

“Shit, sorry, long day. Did you need something?”

Steve smiles slightly, but it’s not mocking. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry to bother you this late but the tech I gave to you earlier, I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to look at it?”

Tony nods slowly. 

“Yeah, I looked at it but I haven’t fixed it yet. Should only take five minutes.”

Steve looks vaguely uncomfortable. “I can come back for it tomorrow, there’s no rush-”

“Cap.” Tony says, raising his eyebrows. “Sit down. I’ll be done in a minute.”

The Captain sits on Peter’s discarded seat, and it only takes Tony about thirty seconds to realise he’s so goddamn hyper aware of Steve’s gaze on him as he works. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when, a minute later, he hears rather than sees the shifting of a seat. Another beat and Steve is right behind him, watching over his shoulder as he takes the tracker apart, replaces the model of the computer inside it, and then puts it all back together. 

“There aren’t any problems with it?”

Tony nearly flinches. _Nearly._ Too many years knowing Natasha has trained him out of the jerk reaction, but old habits die hard. He doesn’t even think the Captain realises what this is doing to his heart rate. To him, it’s just a casual question, a curiosity. 

Tony clears his throat. “No, there are no problems. The computer core is a little out of date, I’ve upgraded it to the newest version. Peter is working on an alternate tracking model which is a lot more specific and also reads vitals, but that won’t be done for a couple more days.” He turns around, flashing Steve the kind of smile he enjoys giving to Obadiah, just to piss him off. “But this one is good to go.”

Steve nods, stepping back and accepting the tracker as Tony hands it over. 

“Do I need to put it anywhere in particular?”

Tony shrugs, suddenly feeling like the room is a little too small. “A jacket maybe, pocket or lining. I would avoid putting it near your phone, better not to mess with the signal.”

“Thanks, for fixing this for me.”

“That’s my job,” he says, flashing another smile. “Or it was until Fury poached me to go on your cute little death mission.”

Steve’s gaze is steady, but something almost sad flickers in his eyes. 

“It’s not going to be a death mission.”

“You can’t promise that.” Tony says quietly, “but it doesn’t matter what I think, clearly.”

He knows Steve doesn’t miss the tinge of bitterness in his voice, but the pity he’s dreading never comes. Instead, there’s something sharp flashing in his eyes. 

“Fury pushed you too much on that.”

“On what in particular.” Tony says, tilting his head to one side and keeping his expression carefully blank, controlled. He doesn’t bother to hide the annoyance though, not even a little bit. “He likes to push on everything.”

Steve looks at him for a long, long second. 

“You’re Tony Stark, that’s what you told us. How many other people know?”

Tony meets his gaze steadily, forcing himself to breathe. “Natasha, Fury, you. That’s it.”

For a second, Tony wonders if Steve is going to say something else. His eyes flicker with something unreadable, and there’s a part of Tony that wants to ask. The other part of him is so very afraid to.

“Cap?”

Steve blinks, gaze clearing slightly. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep, it’s better to be well rested”

Tony raises his eyebrows and Steve gives him a faint smile before walking out. The door clicks shut quietly behind him as he leaves, and Tony is left wondering if the conversation was really wholly real at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
>  So many masks my darling, god knows what’s real anymore  
>  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note: the italics that are ALSO bracketed are quotes/lyrics/lines of poetry/things that i wrote. they're not thoughts, and are more like a commentary on the scene/whats going on. Think of it as a sort of anonymous narration if that makes sense lmao. Normal bracketed things are just the character's thoughts! Hope you enjoy xx

They leave early the next day. 

Steve is awake before dawn, nerves twisting to life in his stomach. 

Hydra. The last time he had interacted with Hydra, Bucky had- 

No. This time would be different. This time has to be different. It’s an easier mission, a simpler mission. 

He hopes, because the universe owes him big time.

Nat has slipped the keys to the car they’ll be taking under his door at some point in the night, and it’s accompanied by a file containing a list of names, a post-it note with a smiley face on it. Somehow, even her drawn smileys manage to come across as vaguely threatening. When Steve flips it over, there’s something written on the back in her curling handwriting. 

_ Fury has decided not to share the names with Stark to keep it at a need to know basis. Don’t ask for another reason, you won’t be getting one.  _ And then underneath in smaller letters:

_ Take care of him, or I’ll personally deliver you to hell :) _

Steve sighs, tucking the paper into his pocket, and thinks about Tony Carbonell, or as he’s now being called by Fury and Nat, Tony Stark. 

He finds it difficult to make connections between the mechanic with the deep brown eyes and the mystery shrouded billionaire. Tony Stark seems untouchable, but Tony Carbonell is very human. He’s brutally, refreshingly human, despite the stories that float around him, reminiscent of an 18 year old playboy with the blood of thousands etched into his hands. 

But Steve isn’t someone who has the high ground to judge someone by their past. 

And Tony Carbonell, the mechanic Tony, the one who fixes random parts of gear and has a constant pot of coffee going, a 15 year old intern he calls ‘kiddo’ and such an intense gaze that seems to go on forever, he likes that Tony, or at least somewhat knows how to talk to him. But something doesn’t sit right with him, the fact that the list of names isn’t being shared with the engineer, even after Fury had given his word.

That, and he doesn’t really know how to act around Tony Stark. 

And that’s undoubtedly who he’s going to be getting to know. Nat had joked about an alter ego earlier, but Steve doesn’t think it’s too far from the truth. He’d seen some of the billionaire Tony Stark last night, in the humourless smile he had given Fury, in the blank expression on his face. 

He sees it as soon as he gets to the car too. 

Tony’s lounging against the side of the vehicle, spinning the car keys between his fingers with a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. As Steve approaches, Tony pushes off the car with a flash of a smile, which isn’t really a smile at all. 

“Ready to go Captain?”

“You’re early.” He says, holding out his hand for the keys. 

Tony just grins, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But I was here first, making _you_ late.”

Steve's annoyed already, and he wonders how its possible to enjoy spending time with the engineer and yet also get so pissed off with the man in front of him. “That’s not exactly how it works.”

Tony shrugs, handing him the keys and getting into the passenger side, throwing his bag on the seats behind. Steve follows suit, sitting down and glancing again at Tony. The billionaire has pulled out his phone and is typing at light speed already. 

“Stark.”

He looks up from the screen, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“You’re sure about this?” 

His look becomes entwined with exasperation. “Yes I’m sure Rogers. Now can we leave?”

He nods silently, not wanting to push it further. Instead he just starts the engine, pulling out of the SHIELD parking lot. 

—

When they come to a stop outside the hotel building, the sun has long since set, and Steve can feel something a lot like nervousness starting to settle into his bones. He’s never been ashamed to admit his fears, apart from this one. 

_ (Shadows, monsters, dark. Such an endless expanse of night.) _

“It’s… less ruined than I thought it would be.”

Steve laughs a little at the clear distaste in Tony’s voice. 

“Hydra has the money to make sure their allies are sleeping somewhere relatively nice. Fury managed to get us in here. It’s one of the two places most Hydra operatives crash.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, stretching a little in the cramped space of the car. “Looks pretty normal to me.”

“That’s the point. No one thinks to look.” There’s a part of Steve that’s surprised the billionaire is talking to him after hours and hours of charged silence on the endless drive. He doesn’t ask though, it’s not worth starting a fight over. 

“If SHIELD knows it’s here, why don’t they just torch the place?”

Steve parks the car and pushes open the door, grabbing the duffle bag filled with his gear out of the backseat. 

“Too much could go wrong. They want more information before making a move. That’s why we’re here.”

Tony nods, taking his own bag. 

“I thought no one was meant to know I’m here. Remind me why we’re walking in the front door.”

“That’s why it’s late. You’re in a room down the hall from mine. With any luck, no one will make the connection. If they do-”

“We’ll get to that if it happens.” Tony says smoothly, shouldering his bag. “Come on then Cap. I want to shower before we launch into all of this shit.”

Steve doesn’t bother responding, just leading Tony inside. There’s no one at the front desk, but he’s been given the door numbers already, part of the file Natasha had slipped under his door.

“You’re in room 306, I'm 309. Call if there are any problems.”

Steve barely catches Tony’s eye roll before the billionaire saunters into his room and slams the door behind him. 

-

When there’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later and he opens it, he’s definitely surprised to see Tony there, an annoyed expression firmly in place. 

“The shower doesn’t fucking work.”

Steve blinks, forcing himself to focus. He’s tired, really tired from the trip here. But he can’t afford to be tired, not now. 

“What?”

Tony rolls his eyes, glancing once down the corridor to check that there’s no one there, and then pushing past Steve into his room. 

“My shower doesn’t work. I’m not doing  _ shit  _ until I’ve cleaned up. So can I use your shower?”

“Fine.” Steve manages to get out, waving a hand towards the door. “Just be quick.”

“Got it Cap.” 

Steve sighs at the nickname and decides to ignore it, going back to his unpacking. A minute later, the water starts, and Steve’s mind drifts back to the mission. 

He’s not  _ worried  _ exactly, more cautious. He hasn’t done something like this in a while, not since… everything. He’s worried about how Tony will handle himself. If all goes to plan, no one will ever know that he’s here. Just as well. He’s an inventor, an engineer, not an actor or a trained undercover agent. 

He has just finished folding his clothes and working out the best places to hide whatever they find, when there’s another knock on the door, just as the shower stops. Silence echoes for a second before he finds his voice. His heart rate seems to have doubled in the space of a breath. Adrenaline, he reminds himself, is a way of his body trying to help him, make sure he’s alert. He just needs to remember to breathe.

“Who is it?” Steve calls, shaking away the paranoia. 

“Rumlow.” says a voice. Male, young. “On behalf of the Boss. 

Shit. Shit shit  _ shit.  _

Rumlow. He remembers him from the files that Fury had given him this morning, the files that list all the people he needs to  _ not  _ piss off. The third in command of the organisation they’re currently trying to infiltrate and destroy is definitely on said list. 

And no one is supposed to know Tony is here. 

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _

He has to let them in. 

“One minute.” He says again, bolting to the bathroom door. 

“Stark.” He hisses through the door. “Start making yourself look completely harmless.”

“What?” Is the reply, and it’s edged with sarcasm, underlaid with annoyance. “Come on Cap. Seriously?”

“Just do it.” Then he turns back towards the main door and pulls it open.

The man standing in front of him is tall, dark haired, with shockingly blue eyes. They’re cold though, more grey than blue really. Flat. Shark eyes. 

“Steve Rogers.” The man says, a smirk playing over his lips. “Hope we aren’t interrupting your evening.”

He inclines his head, glancing once at the two bodyguards standing either side of the man. They’re twice his size. He can take them, he knows he moves fast enough for that, but then that’s the entire mission over. He exhales slowly.

“Not interrupting, no.”

“Good. I hope you don’t mind us taking a look around.” 

Steve steps aside, because what else can he do? “Be my guest.” 

His heart is pounding in his chest, and he avoids looking towards the bathroom. It’s futile though, because seconds later, one of the men shoves open the bathroom door. Steve ignores the rush of energy as he hears the sound of a scuffle, forcing himself to not move an inch as he catches Tony’s hiss of pain. 

A second later, he gets yanked out of the door. 

Steve immediately blushes a little, because Tony… Tony isn’t wearing anything apart from a shirt. It’s long on him, brushing his thighs. There’s a second of white noise in his head before his brain starts working again. It’s  _ Steve’s _ shirt _.  _ It’s another bear before he realises he must have left it in there after his own shower and picked a clean one out. Why the  _ hell _ is he in his shirt? 

Tony’s hair is still damp from the shower, curling gently around his temples, falling into his face. He seems smaller, more nervous. The confidence that seems to be like a second skin has vanished. His eyes are flicking across the room, taking in the situation. He looks like a different person. 

_ (So many masks my darling, god knows what’s real anymore) _

One of the bodyguards, the one holding Tony’s arm in far too tight of a grip, gives the shirt a little tug. Tony doesn’t move. “Who is  _ this _ ?”

Tony looks at Steve, eyes wide, scared, and it finally clicks in his head. The shirt, the eyes, the legs.  _ God _ it’s so perfect he almost believes it himself. Now all he needs to do is make everyone else fall for it.

“Come here sweetheart. That’s it. You’re okay.” He murmurs, in a tone that makes his own skin crawl, a tone he hates, motioning at Tony to come. Tony’s eyes flash for a second, and Steve is stunned at the intensity of the anger he sees there. But then he moves towards Steve as the guard lets him go, and the moment passes. 

When he gets to Steve, he can see more clearly the flickering anger that Tony can't hide up close. Less than before but it’s there. It’s definitely there. And yet, for anyone who doesn’t know him… harmless. He looks completely harmless, dressed in Steve’s clothes and nothing else. Nothing more than a pretty face to entertain him for the trip. 

He swallows down a feeling of faint nausea, turning to the men with a smirk, sliding an arm around Tony’s waist, feeling him flinch. It's barely noticeable, and his expression doesn’t falter. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting guests. I like to have some fun on these business trips.”

Rumlow laughs, gaze travelling across Tony in a way that has Steve clamping down hard on the urge to punch him. 

“That’s to be expected. It’s a nice place here. But I came to tell you that the Boss has extended an offer to an evening event he’s hosting.” Steve’s breath catches slightly. It’s perfect, the perfect opportunity to work out what exactly they’re up against. Rumlow continues, smirking at Tony, and every second the men are in here is another second of Steve resisting the urge to throw one of them out the window. “Feel free to bring your boy toy along. I’m sure we can find some way to amuse him.”

Tony’s grip tightens almost inexplicably, and Steve squeezes his waist lightly, swallowing down the swoop of nausea at his words and nodding towards the men. It’s not an offer you turn down, but if he accepts straight away… 

“I’ll consider it. I’m here on business, but I’m sure I’ll be able to-”

He breaks off as Tony leans up, pressing his lips to Steve’s skin, and it’s not surprising that he loses the ability to speak English as Tony’s mouth makes its way up his neck. 

“You promised me a shower.” Tony says, voice low, and dark, and sounding like sin incarnate, and  _ Jesus Christ.  _ Steve didn’t even know his voice had the ability to sound like that, but it won’t be something he’ll be forgetting any time soon. 

Steve glances at the three men, and they all look mildly uncomfortable. 

“We’ll let ourselves out,” says Rumlow and Steve nods, not sparing them a glance. 

The door shuts, and Tony pulls away, mask of vulnerability vanishing like smoke in the wind. 

“Cap, do me a favour and let go now.” 

There's a faint tremor somewhere in his voice. Steve’s not sure he would’ve noticed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. 

Steve realises that his hands are still on Tony’s waist, and takes a step back, raising his eyebrows. He doesn’t think about how he can still feel the ghost of Tony’s lips on his skin. 

“Harmless, huh?”

Tony shrugs, walking back into the bathroom, layers of his mask clicking back into place . Steve follows, watching him pick up pants and his jacket and shirt. Steve’s shirt… he must have left it in there when he’d showered earlier. Tony’s voice is edged again, the lazy drawl long gone. 

“It has to be believable. Most businessmen bring a couple of things to play with on trips, I figured that would be common ground for them to understand.”

Steve doesn’t ask how he knows that, it’s not rocket science, especially with everything he had read in the press when Tony had been working for Obadiah Stane. 

Steve looks at the floor as Tony pulls off the shirt, throwing it at Steve and grabbing his pants

“So you’re suggesting we go to this party.”

Tony shrugs, pulling his own shirt on, but not before Steve sees a flash of tanned skin and a toned stomach. 

He looks away fast. 

“I don’t know. It’s your call. But if you want to go, then I’ll be going as your… entertainment.”

Tony’s lips twist on the last word, like it’s left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. “They’ll expect me to make an appearance now.”

“You-” Steve tries to order his thoughts, shoving away the memory of what Tony had looked like in his shirt. “Is that something you’d be okay with?”

_ (Okay _ is relative in this situation. Tony had flinched.)

Tony shrugs, pulling his jacket on. “It’s not like we’re actually going to be doing anything past a couple of touches in public and listening to people gossip about it.”

He turns to leave, but Steve grabs his arm, grip gentle but firm. “Stark. Are you sure?”

Tony turns around, smirking at him. “Captain. I’m sure. I’m fully capable of making my own decisions, so you don’t need to be so...careful. I’m not about to break. This is a mission, and I’m aware of what i’m doing.”

“I  _ know  _ that,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “I know. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

Tony levels a hard stare at him, and Steve wonders how anyone can view this man as helpless, even with Tony’s extraordinary ability to act like it. 

“I want to do this, because we need this mission to work. Lives are in the balance, I’m not risking that for my own comfort.”

_ (My darling, why do you still punish yourself for sins that were not your own?) _

“Stark-”

“Are we done here?” He moves, brushing past Steve and out of the bathroom door. 

“You flinched.”

Tony goes still, but doesn’t turn around. 

“What?”

“You flinched, earlier. I’m not doing this until I know that you know what you’re getting into, and that you’re definitely okay with it.”

Tony finally turns around, meeting his eyes head on. There’s something hard in his gaze. 

“Trust me Rogers. It’s nothing I haven't done before.”

“What’s that supposed to-”

“You should get some sleep.” Tony cuts across him with ease, eyes narrowing in a way that very clearly says  _ drop it.  _

“Stark.”

“Rogers.” Tony says, a humourless smile curving his lips, tone scathing and sharp. “Get out of my fucking face.”

He blinks once, trying not to let the flicker of hurt show. But Tony, as he now knows, is better at masks than him, has been practicing for far longer. 

“Are we done here?” The genius says again, eyes dark. “Because I want to get some sleep.”

Steve hesitates for a second, and Tony sees, of course he sees. 

“What.” 

Steve winces slightly, avoiding Tony’s gaze. “They- they think you’re here with me. They’ll expect us to be in the same bed, or at least the same room.”

For a long moment, Tony just stares at him, and it’s an awful time to think it, but Steve thinks he looks almost ethereally beautiful in the dim light of the room, something unreadable shimmering in his dark eyes. But then he blinks, and the moment is gone.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Steve shakes his head. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take the floor, you take the bed.”

Tony narrows his eyes, folding his arms. “It’s your room.”

“It’s my fault you have to share it.”

Tony laughs a little. “Actually, it's mine. It was my idea to- it was my idea. I’ll share the bed, it’ll be better in case someone comes in anyway.”

Steve hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you feel-”

“Rogers.” Tony says. “It’s fine. I’m not made of glass. It’s just a bed.”

“I know, I-”

“Leave it alone. I’m going to find some spare pillows okay?”

“Okay.” Steve says quietly, watching him. Tony walks to one of the cupboards, opening it and pulling out a couple of extra pillows. There’s a neatly folded set of sheets there too. Steve wonders how something as normal as spare sheets can exist in a place like this.

“Here.” Tony says, throwing the pillows onto the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

There’s enough bite to Tony’s words that Steve goes tense for a second. “We don’t have to do this.”

Some of the anger, the same anger that had been shimmering in his gaze when the others had been in the room, has returned to Tony’s eyes. 

“I told you it was fine. You’re going to have to trust my judgement if you want this mission to work.”

Steve frowns a little, stung. “I do trust-”

“Do you?” Tony cuts in, narrowing his eyes. “Because I've spent half an hour with you so far and you’re already convincing me otherwise.”

“I do trust you.” Steve says again, steady, controlled. “I do.”

“Good.” Tony nods towards the bed. “Go on then. I won’t bite unless you want me to.”

He ignores the heat he can feel rising in his cheeks. “Shut up.” He barely catches Tony’s smirk as he pulls the covers away and climbing into the bed. 

Tony laughs a little, but it sounds hollow as he slips in next to him. Steve can  _ feel  _ the tension radiating from the billionaire, despite his relaxed tone. 

“Do I make you nervous Captain?”

“Do  _ I?”  _ Steve says quietly, flicking off the light. “Because you seem tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can sleep on the couch if-”

Tony turns over so that his back is facing Steve, effectively cutting off the conversation. 

“Stark.”

“Go to sleep Rogers.” He says quietly, voice muffled by the pillow. “We’ll wake up if anything happens.”

Steve forces himself to relax, and seconds later he feels the pull of sleep. 

-

Steve wakes up hours later, and the bed is cold next to him. He rolls over slowly, going still at the dim light that reaches his eyes. It’s Tony, curled up on the armchair next to the door, tapping away on his phone. The glow from the screen illuminates his face, and even across the room, Steve can see his eyes, glittering with the reflections of the blue light. 

_ (Light, the nature of infinity and stars. Let it guide the way home.) _

He can’t keep himself awake for much longer though, and feels himself relaxing back into the pillows. 

The last thought in his head is that he’s not sure Tony ever slept at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so hi, this one was a little more exciting! Sorry for the wait, unfortunately my updates aren't going to get much better, especially once I start school again in september. I'll try and keep you all updated, and will probably do so either through my instagram or tumblr (both are linked below, and my username on both is @/wordsxstars)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading:)  
> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wordsxstars)


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